Angels of the Silences
by fancyjules
Summary: She tastes more innocent than Tyra, more like trouble than Lyla, and he definitely doesn’t know her well enough to decide either. TimJulie, one shot.


**Title**: Angels of the Silences  
**Rating**: PG-13 (sexual situations)  
**Word Count**: 1510  
**Pairing/Character:** Tim/Julie  
**Summary**: She tastes more innocent than Tyra, more like trouble than Lyla, and he definitely doesn't know her well enough to decide either.  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: Up till 1x22 _State  
_**Author's Note:** Yup, I did it again. Tim/Julie, y'all. Title from Counting Crows' song of the same name.

There's a party downstairs but Billy's managing it, thank God, because Tim can't handle the noise tonight. It's not any worse than other parties they've hosted – not any better, either – but for some reason, it seems a lot louder, a lot more invasive than any of the others and that includes the time he found some random rally girl going through his underwear drawer.

He escapes after he's pretty sure everyone is too drunk to notice he's missing. Tim closes his bedroom door, blowing out a relieved sigh, and is glad for the muffler of all the voices and laughter that seem to be surrounding him. His room's a mess – clothes on the floor, footballs and playbooks scattered, books on his desk that were never opened and probably never will be. He's not home a lot anymore now that football's started up again, two-a-days for the next two weeks, and he mostly is only here to sleep now.

But his bedroom's _always_ been his sanctuary in the house, the place he comes to escape. It's also the place he's escaped to with a myriad of people and there's definitely a lot of memories here. Mostly good ones -- mostly ones that involve girls. It's the place he and Tyra both lost their virginity, the place Lyla came to lean on him (and lean _into_ him) after Jason's accident, the place Julie Taylor had shown up a few weeks ago, all wide blue eyes and nervous hands.

_I didn't know who else to go to_, she explained. _This is awkward_, she blurted out. _I just need to know_, she pleaded.

And Tim had told her.

_No, I don't think anything is going on_, he placated her. _She's hot but not Saracen's type_, he assured her.

_What's his type_, she whispered, afraid for the answer.

Tim shrugged, _I'm assuming you_.

_Is she your type?_ she wanted to know. He could tell the question surprised her but she made no move to take it back. In fact, she unconsciously stepped forward.

_She used to be_, Tim answered honestly. _Used to be anything with boobs and a mouth was_, he laughed.

_And now?_ she wrinkled her nose at his slight crudeness.

_I'm getting pickier. I'm beginning to want things that aren't good for me._

Julie licked her lips. _Like what?_

His eyes trailed up and down her body, noting her short skirt and simple t-shirt that did nothing to hide her enticing figure. He was a second away from making a huge mistake. _You're better off not knowing_, he hedged.

If possible, those big blue eyes widened. _Guys?_ she squeaked, placing a concerned hand on his arm.

Tim paled. _**No**_, he shouted. _No_, he repeated.

_Then what?_ Julie pushed.

Tim blew out a breath. _You_, he said.

_Me_, she gasped, her hand tightening unconsciously on his arm.

Tim shakes his head. _Don't go there man_, he thinks to himself. _Don't revisit that_. It had gone downhill from there, obviously. She'd flushed, two red splotches high on her cheeks, and opened and closed her mouth several times, unsure of what to say. Finally, she had simply turned on her heel and left the room.

So maybe not such a great memory.

And maybe not such a great move. It had felt a little bit like his joke last year at the football roast. Watching her leave the room, her hips swaying slightly in her haste, he had felt that same tight feeling in his gut, the same struggle to maintain a straight face, like nothing is wrong. Tim flings himself on the bed, not drunk enough for the room to spin above him, and wishes he had done those tequila shots with the o-line before.

The door opens suddenly. Julie Taylor steps in, clutching a small red purse and a cell phone. "Mom?" she says loudly, into the cell phone. "Is this better?" She doesn't see him, is looking at herself in his mirror. She rolls her eyes to her reflection, purses her lips. "Can you – can you come pick me up? Um, it's a long story. I'll tell you in the car. NO. No, please don't send Daddy. He'll kill Matt. Of course it's about Matt. Please, can you just come? Ok, thanks."

She flips the phone shut. "Trouble in paradise?" Tim asks, still looking at the ceiling.

Julie jumps. "Jesus Christ, Riggins," she swears, a hand over her heart. "Make a little noise, won't you?"

"It's my room," he points out and Julie can't argue with that logic. "What was that all about?"

Julie crosses the room, her small high heels making dull noises against the carpet. She puts down her cell phone and purse on his desk and stands over the bed with her hands on her hips. "You're not that stupid, I bet you can guess."

Riggins blinks at her and moves over on his bed, making room for Julie, 90 sure she will not lie down next to him. He is surprised, and pleasantly so, when she does. It's gingerly, of course, and she makes careful note not to touch him in anyway. Tim almost moves closer to her just to see what she'll do but then he remembers her walking away last week and stays exactly where he is.

She is not the first blonde to grace his sheets but she looks right against them in a completely wrong way – she is too polished for his messy room, too rigid for any pretext of being relaxed, too unavailable for Riggin's liking. There's nothing there to suggest she'll ever be in this position again and maybe that's the rightness Tim feels.

And maybe that's his new thing – craving things that won't be permanent, craving girls who are attached, craving girls who are attached to his best friends. Not that Saracen is his best friend. But he was growing on him with each practice. And this is his girl next to him. Forbidden. Tim's crossed the line before with but even he can't help if it if this situation _is_ sort of falling into his lap.

" – and then, next thing I know, he's filling up her cup from the keg and I'm left all alone in the middle of this stupid party – sorry Tim, but it's true – and I didn't even want to come in the first place!"

She's ranting and he's not even listening. He isn't even sure she wants him to _be_ listening. And he is missing the quiet that he had sought out before, that had embraced him earlier in his room but she isn't running out of steam ("so I wasn't go to stand there and watch him") anytime soon so he does the only thing he can to quiet her.

He kisses her.

It is awkward, ranks right up there as most awkward kiss ev-er, because she is mid yell and her mouth is open and she goes limp underneath him as he continues to press his lips to hers. But then! Then, she is kissing back, her hands gliding up to tangle in his hair, to rub circles on his neck, to draw him closer to her.

Tim likes where this is going so he rolls them over and Julie is half lying on him, half straddling him. He changes the angle of his face, deepens the kiss, slides his tongue across hers. She tastes more innocent than Tyra, more like trouble than Lyla, and he definitely doesn't know her well enough to decide either. But he feels like he might get to know her with the way she is pressing him into his bed.

It is a heavy make-out session, heads into treacherous waters quickly. Julie gets his shirt off in record time, doesn't even realize Tim's unhooked her bra until he is pulling it down her arms. Without thought, she arches her back, allowing Tim to capture her nipple in his mouth, his warm tongue tracing the outline, forcing a muffled moan out of Julie. Tim grins against her skin and continues his movements when Julie's phone vibrates against his leg.

He freezes, pulls his mouth off Julie, and falls back to the bed, stretched out like he was before she came in, as Julie opens the phone and assures her mother that she'll be outside in a minute. She puts her bra and her shirt on in silence, pulls her now tangled hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

"I will deny this until I die," she tells him, with an angry shake of her hair, her big blue eyes cold and hard and flat. Tim can't tell if she's mad at herself for doing this, at him for starting it, or at Saracen for being absent enough to allow it and he really doesn't want to know.

Tim groans as the door slams behind her and runs a hand over his face tiredly. He can still feel her lips on his, still hear her encouraging moans in the empty room.

Suddenly, it is entirely too quiet.


End file.
